It was my intention to post lots of retrospective pics of my past in the month of February but Work has been excessively needy and I’ve had to give her all of my attention. Better late than next month. Enjoy the smile.
I came across this old ad with Spencer and I for the obstetrician who supervised the birth of both of he and his brother. Funny and such a lifetime ago.
If you’re like most Americans (and Congress), you haven’t read the 1071 page Stimulus Bill that President Obama is likely to sign early this week. This will impact our future for the next three or more generations, people! Insomnia forced me to read through a good bit myself but here is a quick look for those who don’t want to have to filter through all of the stuff that has nothing to do with “change you can believe in.” Read What The Stimulus Bill Has For Everyday Americans and tell me what you think.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas and I’m listless
All signs point to chocolate hearts and lust terribly encrypted
Reservations with reservation with the annual prince
And fifteen makes him a frog again with no hope for recompense
Sugared glossing from unintended and latex filled with air
Or latex filled with heat and for once he’ll take you there
Take you there and leave you where once again you have been fooled
Once upon a time now has no ending while your thread it has no spool
Confections are not affection and perhaps crimson is just a clot
Perhaps Cupid is the victim and it he who has just been shot
His blood won’t coagulate and so his shooting arm may rot
One billion get well cards to wish him well or wish him not
Perchance to dream, perchance to stop
The door is locked
And still you knock
What is this plot?
Who has you blocked?
Roll the rock
Still breathing?
Stop.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas but don’t miss this
Commercial lust is not love at all but the masses have it twisted.
kenn.
AND… here’s a great article by Roland Martin that says it better.
Four walls and an echo
Down a long and distant hall
Four intents and no passenger
And a self-constructed wall
Three beats and then waiting
For the time to pronounce my vow
Three strikes and then debating
Should I forfeit the game right now?
Two seats yet filled to capacity
Did she save a seat for me?
Two ballads have made me restless
And their cadence won’t set me free
One candle seems too solitary
Me, myself and eyes are under strain
The fine print of my love songs are contrary
To life’s context and catchy refrain
Blank pages in an athenaeum
And the moon without her sun
For still I write these love songs
For a million and no One.
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This warehouse is down the street from me and I never noticed the "familiarity" of the logo until today.
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